man wanted to get hold of Dodger. What
puzzles me is, that you said he was an old man."

"His hair and beard were gray."

"And Curtis has no beard, and his hair is black."

"But the boy said he didn't look like an old man, except the hair. He
walked off like a young man."

Tim Bolton's face lighted up with sudden intelligence.

"I'll bet a hat it was Curtis in disguise," he soliloquized.

"That's all we could find out, Mr. Bolton," said Briggs, with another
longing look at the bar.

"It is enough! You have earned your whiskey. Walk up, gentlemen!"

Hooker and Briggs needed no second invitation.

"Will either of you take a note for me to Mrs. O'Keefe? For another
drink, of course."

"I will, Tim," said Hooker, eagerly.

"No; take me, Mr. Bolton," entreated Briggs.

"You can both go," said Tim, generously. "Wait a minute, and I'll have
it ready for you."

He found a half sheet of note paper, and scribbled on it this message:

"Mrs. O'Keefe:--Tell Miss Linden that I have a clew. I am
almost surtin her cozen has got away with Dodger. He won't
hurt him, but he will get him out of the city. Wen I hear
more I will right.

"T. Bolton."

Chapter XXVI.
Bolton Makes A Discovery.

"I see it all," Bolton said to himself, thoughtfully. "Curtis Waring
is afraid of the boy--and of me. He's circumvented me neatly, and the
game is his--so far my little plan is dished. I must find out for
certain whether he's had anything to do with gettin' Dodger out of the
way, and then, Tim Bolton, you must set your wits to work to spoil his
little game."

Bolton succeeded in securing the services of a young man who had
experience at tending bar, and about eight o'clock, after donning his
best attire, he hailed a Fourth Avenue surface car and got aboard.

Getting out at the proper street, he made his way to Madison Avenue,
and ascended the steps of John Linden's residence.

The door was opened by Jane, who eyed the visitor with no friendly
glance.

"What do you want?" she asked, in a hostile tone.

"Is Mr. Waring at home?"

"I don't know."

"Is Miss Florence at home?"

"Do you know her?" she asked.

"Yes; I am a friend of hers."

Jane evidently thought that Florence must have made some queer
friends.

"Have you seen her lately?" she asked eagerly.

"I saw her to-day."

"Is she well?"

"Yes; she is well, but she is in trouble."

"Is sh